The Sacrifice
by Catheryne
Summary: Historical romance. Set during the Hundred Years' War, the Black Prince Klaus takes to wife Princess Blair for a direct line to the throne. During one of his bloody sieges, he is enthralled by Caroline, a woman he takes prisoner, while his wife finds comfort and a fresh promise with Chuck, another of his captives. (Blair/Chuck; Klaus/Caroline)
1. Chapter 1

**The Sacrifice****  
**

Pairing: Blair/Chuck; Caroline/Klaus (and several others)

**Prologue****  
**  
In times of war, when all the gold in the kingdom's coffers went to defending the rights of the monarch to the throne of another kingdom, when the dignity and power of the bloodline was at stake, there were no glorious courts or grand celebrations.

Klaus Mikaelson, only recently knighted by his own father, bore himself straight and regal in the heavy custom black armour that sent a tremor of horror to all that beheld him in battle. It had recently been cleaned, and now the armour gleamed in the half-shadowed chapel as he waited at the end of the aisle for his bride. His little French bride, one not be refused, an offering that made his own father crow with pleasure when he received the missive and the offer.

"You would have me wed this girl, one I have not seen," Klaus had stated, without the lilt of a question. One did not expect to love a bride. In truth his father did not love his mother, he did not think. Ever truer, Klaus doubted that his own father held any such regard for his many children. "What does this bride bring to the table?"

"Riches from France you need," the king told him, "and another bloodline in the family to bring your bid closer to their throne." His father paused and curled his finger to Klaus, bidding him come closer. "None of your brothers have the instinct, the drive, the hunger that you have, Niklaus. None of your brothers were born to be king. You are my remaining hope to reclaim what was lost to me by the mere accident of being born out of the female line. Our bloodline shall not lose our inheritance because of something so trivial, son. Your children with her shall be direct descendants of my mother, sister to a French king, and grandchildren to another."

Klaus took a deep breath, and with a somber nod acknowledge the same passionate ambition to his father. "Then if this girl is my key to open those gates that have been locked to you, father, use her I will."

"Use her, and let me be alive to hear the crowds in the fatherland chant their welcome," the king muttered. He affectionately slapped Klaus on the cheek, then gripped the nape of his neck. "All hail, Klaus, son of Mikael, king of England and France."

Klaus closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly shut as the words washed over him. "You humble me, father, yet all the same fill me with pride that you have such faith in your son."

"Then wed, and be king."

"I am ever your humble servant, father," Klaus acknowledged.

In the dark chapel he stood, and awaited as the delegation from France crowded the entry way to the chapel. Klaus did not let pass a single face that he did not burn into his brain. These were the witnesses to his marriage, and would each be previous proof when he does wage his war for his throne.

Klaus noted the handful of men who served as the princess' escorts, memorized the features. On his marriage bed he would ask his new bride for the names for his records. There were the young ladies that Klaus imagined have been sent to be part of the princess' household.

He certainly hoped the princess was not sentimental. He would not have ladies of the French court, loyal only to their own king, be seated in the most intimate circles of his kingdom. It would only be intelligent to install his own sister in his queen's household, until Rebekah herself was sent for her own marriage to strengthen the family standing.

And then he saw the litter covered by the heavy veil. For the practicality of this marriage Klaus felt the thrill that rushed over his entire body. He supposed it was only healthy. He would spend the rest of his life with his bride, and as a man of eighteen years he was at a prime to bed a wife and create spawns that would fill all the castles that he would take.

Armies of his children, all loyal and loving to him, blind in their faith, fanatic in their admiration.

The veil parted, and the view was hampered by a rather generous-bodied woman that stopped before it. Klaus held his breath. The ample woman moved to the side and revealed to him a girl-a young girl-an ethereal beauty of a dark-haired girl, with skin as flawless and pale as he ever did see, with full red lips and large, dark, liquid eyes.

But a child nonetheless.

He threw a look to his father, who stood at the opposite end of the altar and regarded the child with a sneer. Klaus turned back to the child, who walked forward with her hand in the woman's, a woman he now realized was a maid. The child walked with her head held high, and he noticed the ever so slight tremor of her bottom lip. The girl was terrified, yet in the way she walked, struggling to keep upright despite the heavy, bejeweled wedding gown, she showed her courage.

Klaus could curse his cousins, for granting a child for marriage. He could tell his own father's rising fury. A child, whom likely had not had her menses, was useless in empire-building, for a man who hoped to secure his claim to a throne through children born of two bloodlines.

"What is this?" his father roared, his voice echoing in the chapel. "This is preposterous!"

The child stopped still on her tracks, throwing a look to her nurse. The slight body drew closer to her nursemaid. Klaus heard the muttering in French.

"Father," Klaus said, his voice low. He descended from the raised dais and walked towards the child. He knelt before the princess. "Je m'apelle Klaus."

From the skirts of her nurse, the princess extended a hand. "Blair," she said to him. Klaus took her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

The girl. The child was pure royalty coursing through her very veins. He could see on her face the long lines of kings and queens they would produce together, with this beauty and courage thrumming in such a slight body. She was the key that would help unlock the monarchies of all the lands across the channel, not just France.

"I shall marry her," Klaus declared to his father. He turned to the king that stood by the altar. "What is a few more years to wait, father, while I amass what lands I am able and forge what alliances I can? Let me surround the French throne through might. I shall build our holdings from shore to shore before we even consummate this marriage."

"A child, Niklaus," the king growled. "I should send her head back home to her father."

Klaus returned to his father's side. He grasped his father's hand, feeling the painful unrelenting gold in his fist. "A Waldorf child, in whose veins flow the blood of conquerors, blood more precious than any the world has seen in five hundred years." He whispered, "I can use her. Let me possess her now."

The king turned to the young princess standing at the aisle. He extended a hand towards the girl and her nurse, then bid them go forward. "Bienvenue dans la famille, princesse."

**Part 1****  
**  
There were pangs of hunger in the depths of her belly and fear in the eyes of her father and mother, both unfamiliar, both staggering in the way they had come upon them one day. The entire town of Calais gathered round the governor it seemed. To Caroline Forbes it was a day of infamy when the governor stood in the square and declared the only demand of the prince that lay in wait outside their thick city walls.

She had been much too protected. Her parents spoke of the siege in whispers as if she could not notice that the marketplaces had dwindled in the last months, that no food nor wine came through the large city gates, or that they had not seen the countryside from within the walls as the gates never opened these months past.

Calais was under siege, and the town was much too proud to surrender, waiting for its king to aid them.

Yet one by one they fell-from hunger, from thirst, from illness. Inside the wide expanse of the town they fell. And soon what meat could be found was prepared and cooked to feed a town forsaken by its king. It started with the cattle, with the fowl. Soon the fish dwindled as even on the walls that faced the sea the enemies abound.

"The Black Prince," Caroline heard on the streets, from voices quaking with fear. "Tis the Black Prince waiting past the city walls."

In truth she stank, she knew full well. But for a city so positioned by the water it was difficult now to even get a fresh supply. The English and the Black Prince's men so guarded what came in and out of the town as the Black Prince starved out the city. She could not be ashamed. The entire town was filthy and starving and even so they gathered unhealthily crowded in the square to hear the governor in their desperate state for good news of their salvation.

Her mother and father would not have wished for her to learn their sorry state, but she saw the way her father looked at her in the morning. She doubted he had the strength to keep her from much of the truth anymore, not when there was not even a slice of bread on the table.

Caroline fell into step with the crowd, saw her father standing by the governor up on the platform. They conferred in quiet whisper, somber, and when her father raised his head and scanned the crowd that watched. Caroline frowned as she watched, and then felt a familiar hand resting on the small of her back. It was her mother, smiling sadly at her.

"Is it true that the very devil awaits us outside, mother?" Caroline whispered. At her mother's look of alarm, Caroline shrugged. "The entire town is dying, which means I die along with everyone else. You may as well tell me the truth. Is it the Black Prince camped outside the walls these many months past?"

Her mother nodded. "But we shall keep you safe, Caroline, I swear."

Caroline noticed the rings under her mother's eyes, and the heavy slouch of her father's shoulders up on that platform. Before she could offer to keep herself safe, the governor cleared his throat to address the town.

"Good people of Calais, the Black Prince has razed towns and cities across of France and the rest of the continent," the governor began. "But Calais withstood him and his army for nigh on ten moons. We have held out for our king, but our king is not powerful enough to defeat this army."

There were audible gasps, as if this was the first time some of the citizens had recognized that they were no match for the soldier prince. Caroline turned to glare at one such surprised and now sobbing citizen. She had been protected, but certainly she could not be surprised that months cut off from supply and civilization did not mean that France could not defeat the English.

"What do they want?" Caroline called out to the governor, much to the dismay of her mother. "Is it riches the Black Prince desires? We have jewels and gold and fine cloths. Let them pillage the town and save our lives."

"We have held out too long, cost the Prince too much. He shall not cease this siege until blood flows red in Calais." The governor continued, "I know the stories well, of the massive damages and the lives lost under the Black Prince's blade."

The governor turned to the crowd, and Caroline turned her head to look at the same direction that the governor did. She noticed that the wealthiest merchant of Calais, Bartholomew Bass, intently spoke with his son Charles. And then there seemed to be quiet reflection as Bartholomew grasped his son by his neck, then kissed his forehead in some dignified goodbye.

And then Bartholomew climbed up to the same platform as Caroline's own father William.

"Good citizens of Calais," declared Bartholomew Bass, "the Black Prince shall have his fill of blood, his sacrifice, to spare every last man, woman and child in Calais. He has deemed the suitable punishment for the audacity of this city not to surrender to him when he marched against us the year before."

Caroline watched in horror as lengths and lengths of rope appeared in her father's hands, and the governor began looping the rope around their bodies.

Caroline turned with a look of surprise towards Charles Bass, who stood with the crowd and watched silently as his own father was tied with the ropes.

"Six of our elders, our most prominent, our burghers," Bartholomew said aloud, "to carry to the Prince the keys to the city and stand in for the people of Calais. I shall be first, and William Forbes shall be with me. Governor Lockwood shall take his part."

"No!" she cried out. "Father, you cannot. What of me? You cannot leave me."

"Let them be."

The townspeople erupted into nervous chatter, and some into sobs. Caroline watched in horror as one by one those so beloved by the town stepped forward to take the three remaining places. Vanderbilt. Gilbert. Bennett. All to hang in exchange for the city.

As the burghers walked slowly down the streets towards the gates that had long been shut, Caroline watched the townspeople reach out to them with blessings and prayers. She met her father's eyes, saw the apology in them, could not and did not accept it.

She turned towards Charles Bass, who she had not spoken to even once in the years she had lived in Calais. He had been away much of his youth, sent by his own father to represent him in his businesses with the king and the surrounding cities. Her mother had cautioned her against befriending the Bass son—too angry, too rich, too vain, too extravagant, too much of everything that the entire time often frowned upon. Yet in Calais, Charles Bass sat atop many of the people their own age.

For a brief moment she thought her mother would stop her. Instead, Elizabeth Forbes watched teary eyed as the parade of the doomed men steadily moved towards the gate. Her own mother was too absorbed by the ill-fated march to pay much attention now to Caroline and her own mistakes.

"How could you allow this?" Caroline demanded from the young man.

"Did it seem like I had a choice?" Charles returned. "It was my father or us all. What would you have done?"

Her eyes narrowed at Charles. "Certainly not chosen the way that would ensure my father's death."

Charles shook his head. "You have no understanding of the word sacrifice," Charles concluded, "if you could choose to end the lives of hundreds for what is easier for you. Such a selfish child."

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "My father is marching to a certain death, and so is yours. I would take my selfishness than be you. You would throw away your own father, so you would be safe. Which of us is selfish now?"

"This was my father's choice, so let him choose. I have no need of anyone," Charles declared.

**Outside Calais**

She sat atop her mare, gentle as it was. The wind blew from the sea, whipping her thick dark hair and veil. The princess studied from afar her husband, reading nothing of the somber way that he stared at the city walls that for months would not give. What stubborn wall it was, thick and strong not even digging trenches around it could sent the considerable fortress crumbling. What a stubborn city it was, months on end without restocking meat and grain.

Such a marvelous, stubborn, strong city.

Blair wondered how many graves were freshly dug in the city since Klaus and his army surrounded the walls.

It had been ten full years since she was in French soil, and upon her return this was the very first that her husband would take her. Months in France and life was nothing but the dreary embroidery in the tent while she sat to listen to the tactical planning that her husband conjured mere feet away from her.

This was the household that she ran, far different from her education to run her husband's castle. The Black Prince's bride of ten years ran the running of an army household. There was little food in stock, little to drink. She had in her role as Klaus' bride sent home to England and the king the call for more supplies. A day or two of delay and the men behind Klaus Mikaelson would be weak as Calais.

These were affairs that Klaus had no mind for, and this was how she served her role. Blair certainly served no other purpose, seemed to be unnecessary in the grand scheme of his quest for an empire.

"We should return home," Blair advised as she slowed her mare alongside his destrier. "We shall achieve nothing here."

When he turned to her it was with fury, sending her heart racing to her throat. "Your place is in the tent, princesse. Once again you mind business not yours."

Blair's lips thinned. She sat straighter on her mare, shoulders high despite the heavy weight of her cape upon them.

Still he blamed for the radical reduction of the food and wine, when during a meet at the far edges of the camp where he had gathered his leaders, Calais had opened its gates and out stumbled old men and women, children, many citizens that would be useless in battle and merely consume much of the reserves in the city.

Blair had given the desolate group respite, served them bread and wine and gave them much to spare before sending them on their way. Calais may have abandoned them, and Blair had seen enough of the Black Prince's raids to know what he would have done. And so hurriedly, as the night began to fall and she had known that Klaus would soon return, Blair had ushered them into a way around their own camp so they may escape without pursuit.

The Black Prince had come, had roared, had sent his army after them in his fury. He could have filled his trebuchets, the catapults, with the corpses of the aged men and rained dead bodies of the wretched upon Calais. Instead he was out weeks' worth of food and drink, and was left with a bride who had shamed him before him own men.

"I could kill you," he had warned her grimly as he pushed her into her tent.

And even as she stumbled back upon her cot she raised her chin and parried to him, "Yet you need me."

"One day I shall be strong with lands and men, and perhaps I will have no need of your blood to bolster me."

She had drawn a breath of relief then. "When that day comes, Klaus, I shall offer my neck to your blade. Until then I have a voice and a will, and they shall together work to spare every drop of French blood that they can."

And at the proud declaration he had seemed to rest back on his haunches and asked, "What has ever happened to my innocent child bride?"

The yawning moan of the heavy city gates of Calais drew her attention back to the present, where for the first time Blair took a peek inside the ravaged city. Her lips parted as she craned her neck to see. It was a sight to behold, one that so easily broke her heart. Slowly, with the audible weeping of the city behind them, men as old as her father would have been or even older, walked out of the city gates. The first of the men was older, his hair white, noose around his neck as he bore loosely in his hands the keys to the city and the castle.

"This is it," she heard Klaus murmur beside her, triumph lacing the wonderment in his voice.

To Blair, it was humiliation, anguish.

In the far distance she felt the heated gaze on her, and her eyes drifted over the old man's shoulder and to the crowd standing by the gates, a young man with his dark eyes narrowed as he watched her. Reluctantly, almost impossibly, Blair tore her eyes away from him as she turned to Klaus.

"You think to murder them all, old men, weak and defenseless?"

The burghers were some distance away, and Blair was certain in the middle ground between Calais and the rest of his army, they were the only two that could hear the other.

"You do not have a say in my decisions. You cannot have a hand in my kingdom, wife."

She looked coldly at him. "I have no hand in any part of your life, and I have allowed it." At his smirk, and his glare, she said instead, "I have with full gratitude accepted that you have allowed me. But I will not sit idly by as you murder good men who would sacrifice themselves for their own city."

"You are a child. You have no head for politics and for building empires."

When he turned towards his men, Blair stopped him. "Loyalty. Do you not admire loyalty above all else, crave it more then you crave love or wealth or any affection?" Blair gestured to the burghers. "These men are prepared to die out of loyalty, Klaus."

From the gates of Calais Blair sensed the struggle. She turned in time to see a young woman, who ran in full abandon towards the burghers, in such wanton, unrestrained exertion that her golden hair fell free of its bun and the lace that covered it. The young woman flung herself towards one of the burghers, and madly pulled away at the noose around the man's neck.

"Family, Klaus," Blair whispered. When she looked back at her husband it was to see the dark fascination in the Black Prince as he watched the young woman grasping at her father's shoulders as she sobbed. "You cannot murder these men in cold blood, and tear apart their families."

"You are a sentimental girl, Blair," Klaus said quietly, still not taking his eyes away from the scene before him.

That was all he thought of her. She swore she was much more, knew she was much more. "Tell yourself all you wish to believe, your grace. I will not sit still in a dark cabin, protected from the truth of what evil my lord husband can do. Kill them before my eyes, my lord, if you dare." Blair paused. "Or show me your compassion. I have not seen your compassion for so long. I am one of very few who shall attest that there is mercy inside you. I know you. Let them go, Klaus."

Looking directly into her eyes, he grimly declared, loud enough so that his men would hear the order, "Round up the heirs and heiresses of Calais, my friends, and haul them aboard. The princess requires company and England can refresh its coffers with ransom from the French." To Blair, he said, "This is how you tear apart families, shame your enemy, and profit for England. Let me be clear, princesse. You do not know me. No one knows Klaus Mikaelson. No one ever will."

He kicked the side of his destrier, and rode away towards the shore. The men galloped past her towards the city of Calais. Blair watched frozen on her mare as the young woman who had so bravely broken away from the city to hold her own father was taken. She saw the man who had been studying her with such loathing step forward, then peacefully and with acceptance allowed himself to be pulled behind another of Niklaus' knights.

One by one, the heirs and heiresses of Calais were taken hostage.

This was the Black Prince's mercy.

tbc

This story will be like wielding a very large sword. It will require lots of balance and support. For those who enjoy digging up the history behind these stories, this is during the beginning of the Hundred Years' War. What did you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

The princess knew, more than any other, the vast secrets that existed between this world and the other; that life and death in this world were in parallel with death and birth in the other. There were a good many voices that plagued her mind and brought her to the most secluded of the Mikaelson holdings at home and abroad, a good many voices and spirits that she could not hope for her husband to understand.

At the break of dawn Blair found herself wandering off to the edges of their camp as they waited for the ship that had been spotted a time ago. Klaus would have his hands full waiting for the ship and the cargo it brought to the newly captured city, a city whose stocks he would personally replenish with goods from England. A city he had close to torn down, destroyed with almost a year long siege, would then raise him up as a savior.

It would be another in the long list of her husband's accomplishments she would not know was a win or a loss in the grander scheme.

But Klaus and his military legacy would rightly fall off of her shoulders when the thick morning mist rose around her, when the whispers coming from the Otherworld grew louder around her, louder and louder still, until it seemed that this world and the other blended into one, and she stood with one foot here and another home.

It was in these cold, bleak mornings when she was at home, when Blair communed with the water and the earth, and the mist was her cover. This was the very part of her that Klaus would never understand, when he could brush her off as the child that he had taken as a bride those many years ago, a child so wide-eyed and innocent and much like a sacrifice from France to appease a marauding prince.

Like she was the victim in this farce.

Blair turned around and watched the mist form a cloak to surround her in a protected circle. With a certainty borne of natural instincts, Blair turned to each of the four directions. The murmur of indistinct voices around her grew louder, yet even more incomprehensible.

She drew the pouch hanging from her belt, containing precious powdered bark from the oak tree of her birth land. Over the last ten years she had very rarely used it for more than casting the portal, so precious was it. Blair dipped her fingers inside and drew a small handful, then threw some to the north. "I honor the spirits to give me the power of the earth," she whispered. And then to the east, "And the air," to the south, "the fire," and finally to the west, "the water."

Blair closed her eyes as she stood in the center of the circle. The mist around her as thick as the thickest fog now, ensuring none on the outer side of the circle would hear her or see her. She was in a world all her own.

_You have not succeeded, princess, until now._

"The Black Prince is strong, much stronger than you believe," Blair replied in secret, not because she could be overheard—she believed enough in the power of the casted circle of the mist—but because she herself shuddered into reverent tones within the sanctity of the circle. "His wall is thick, impenetrable. His heart may be the blackest I have faced."

_You have not succeeded. All that you touch is destroyed. _

It was difficult to argue. Ten years and countless battles that Klaus had led himself, battles which she had attempted to dissuade him, all fought and won.

_You fail, and we are forgotten._

Forgotten and their entire world perished. Blair had known it since she was a child at court whispered about. The halfling princess, marred by a night in which her mothered succumbed to the Sidhe. Little wonder it was so easy to be shipped off to wed a blackhearted invader.

_Follow your path._

"I shall," she whispered.

_You are hope._

She was the sacrifice.

_Princess, a dark shadow in the mirror. The white oak tree burns. The dark prince in the mirror will destroy._

The voices were silent, and Blair knew only that the abruptness was due to the discovery of the mist. She opened her eyes and watched as the circle slowly dissipated, giving her a blurry view of the surrounding forest. She closed her eyes tightly.

"Destroy… the black prince… what will he destroy?"

She swallowed, waited for the response despite the imminent danger of discovery.

_Your castle in the clouds. The dark prince will destroy your castle in the clouds._

Blair opened her eyes, frustration marring her brow. She looked up at the old overgrown tree above her and gave silent thanks for the shelter it provided. She quickly scanned around and found no prying eyes, but knew in seconds those would arrive. True enough, Blair heard the crack of twigs alerting her to newcomers who knew not to be silent.

The silly noise gave her peace, at least, that these were not terrorizing bandits who would have known better.

The bushes parted, and Blair sighed in relief at the sight of the dark-haired man who was a welcome face at the crack of dawn.

"Elijah, you have come!" Blair cried out, greeting her husband's brother, elder than Klaus, yet from the very beginning that Blair had come to join the Mikaelson's had never been in contention for the throne.

Behind Elijah, a cloaked woman appeared. She pushed her hood off her head to reveal large waves of dark hair that rivaled Blair's own. Blair turned to Elijah quizzically. When Elijah did not immediately respond, Blair turned back to the woman and bowed her head in acknowledgment, no lower than a slight acknowledgment, for very clearly the girl was common and the princess did not bow down to most anyone.

"Now how is it that I knew precisely where to find you in an ungodly hour, princess, and most of your guards do not?" Elijah asked pointedly.

Blair smiled coyly, "Mayhap I know not to share to an army where to find and kill me should a traitor wrest the crown from your brother."

Elijah chuckled lightly, but warned, "You know it is not safe to wander about with no one to stand guard over you, princess."

"Yet ten years I have done it and still I breathe," Blair pointed out. And then she reached for Elijah's hand. Quickly and surreptitiously, the woman beside Elijah looked at where Blair clasped the man's hand. "Are you come to take food and wine to Calais? How is it that such an important man delivers food to a siege, my lord?"

"Father has instructed me and Finn to allow Klaus to install us in Calais and keep it an English holding. You and Klaus, I believe, shall accompany your hostages home to England and recuperate from the year's hardship."

And what hardship it was. She and Klaus had been at odds most times, and her sole purpose for being on his side was utter failure. Blair could bleed from her very eyes with the immeasurable destruction that Klaus had left in his wake.

"France shall try and take Calais again. It is a splendid keep, an advantageous location. Finn and I are tasked to ensure France does not succeed."

Her hold on Elijah's hand tightened. "You will ensure little blood is spilled, my lord?"

"I spill what blood I need. I do not take pleasure in it," Elijah answered, "but my duty is first to the throne." And then Elijah edged close to her, tipped her chin up so she would look into his eyes. "Hold your head high, princess. Ensure your position on the throne if you are ever to be a hope for France again."

"I have been his bride for ten years, my lord. I have been useless, have no voice in his council or your father's, could barely stay his hand in murdering a starving and helpless city."

"A man shall grant his love's desire," interrupted the woman who stood watching the exchange. "My advice is to seek his heart." Elijah's brows shot up.

Blair turned to the woman. "However shall I?"

"Perhaps, my Katerina, you can enlighten the princess on our way back. I certainly had no choice but to fall in love with you."

Elijah walked ahead of the two, and Blair glanced back towards where the circle had been. There was no sign of her circle now, so Blair turned back and walked with the woman who had accompanied Elijah, common enough that there was no introduction yet trusted enough to have gone off the beaten path with a prince of England, albeit one who undoubtedly would not take the throne and be king.

"How does a wife make a husband love her?" Blair asked Katerina.

Elijah's woman—and there was no other way Blair could think of her now with so little to know—turned to her, and with a small, secret smile, one that only women could truly share with another, she said, "You are seeking answers that are within you. You only have to be brave enough to release it."

Oh, how much she could not know.

As Elijah turned at the curve, Katerina caught Blair's hand and raised a finger to her lips. When Elijah was sufficiently away, Katerina lowered her finger and told Blair, "I know why it was that you were sent to pacify England. You are one of the most powerful creatures in the world. If you truly used all of your power, you can take what you want." Blair swallowed, and she looked deep into Katerina's eyes to determine if she knew what she knew, when, and how much she had shared. And then, Katerina drew closer to her, and mouthed, "Because you are a woman, princess, and he is but a man."

At this, Blair released a trembling breath.

She turned at the noise to the side, and she saw Elijah with a lopsided grin, having only just cleared his throat. Elijah declared, "I should not leave the princess unattended with you, Katerina. What ideas you introduce to her." It was halfhearted, because Katerina walked over to Elijah and affectionately brushed a hand over his shoulder. "The supplies are being unloaded as we speak. Shall you go ahead, Katerina, into the city? I shall have the governor's chambers."

"And you want me to ensure Finn stays away from what you want," Katerina surmised.

"If you would."

"For you, my lord, anything you desire."

Blair watched closely, at the display of humility and servitude from the woman who claimed superiority over all men. She marveled at the grin on Elijah's face as Katerina left just as the sun started brightening her surroundings and warming the day. It was pity that Elijah and Katerina would remain in Calais as she left for England at Klaus' side, for there was much she could study in the interaction between the two.

Elijah offered his arm, and Blair took it as they strolled down the path back to the dock. She patted Elijah's arm. "I shall miss you and the calm you bring you to me, brother," she told him. "But Calais was once beautiful. To be so close to the sea and admire its power every day you wake… I envy you."

They came to the clearing, and she could see Klaus standing aboard the ship. Even from afar once he saw her he motioned to her.

"My husband calls. England calls," she murmured.

As she stepped forward, Elijah closed one hand over hers that rested on his arm. Blair turned back to Elijah. Elijah raised her hand to his lips. "Remember, Blair, that you have a hand that was meant to rule a kingdom, the hand of a queen. If Klaus cannot have faith in your abilities, if he will continue to cast a shadow under which you pale, you must take the reins. Have a son. I shall take regency for your son but the crown and scepter shall all be yours."

Blair's eyes widened. She took in the thrumming passion underneath her fingers. Elijah's body near quaked with his conviction. "You are suggesting treason, my lord."

"I am suggesting an alternative way, princess, to get what you want."

"And you know what I want most of all?" she whispered, highly conscious that in the large distance between them Klaus could see every move that they made.

"Ten years, Blair, and I have watched you blossom from a child to a woman. I know you want to be seen and heard. I know you want the relentless sieges to stop." His voice dropped. "I know you want your child to take the throne, to put the crown on a child of a bloodline as noble as yours."

So much truth, yet so many secrets still. "Why would you betray your brother?" she asked, because as far as she knew Elijah was as loyal to family as anyone she knew.

"I have had enough of this killing, as have you. Killing is all my father and my brother know. I have had enough of a king that would massacre."

"Peace is all I want," Blair admitted. She allowed the half-truth because it represented fully the half of her that Elijah knew. "If I have to usurp your brother's throne to do this, then that is what I shall do."

"Have a son."

"Klaus sees me as the same child that walked down the aisle." Her cheeks burned as she admitted to him, "My husband has not warmed my bed, and I fear to go to my grave childless, Elijah. I must have a child. I cannot be the end."

Blair blinked away the tears, with a plea so heartfelt she spilled the fear that was burning in her gut. Never mind that the French throne would have her brother lined up to inherit, or that her brother Aaron had several babes. Never mind that Elijah had no knowledge of the half of her blood that stemmed from a far more ancient line, one that died out by the thousands with every breath.

"I shall keep Calais in our hands," Elijah told her, "and I shall raise support for the time when we take the throne. All this I can do, Blair. But I cannot bring my brother struggling to your bed. I think there are problems you need to solve on your own, princess."

"How do I know you will not usurp the throne from my son, Elijah?" Blair challenged.

"Because I do not wish to be king. I never have. That is why Klaus had always been heir presumptive until I saw how bloodthirsty he is. Just like father."

Blair was aboard the ship within moments of the quiet conversation. Klaus greeted her at the deck. Blair looked up at her husband and hesitated for a second before extending her hand to him. He looked down at her proffered hand and Blair waited for a heartbeat, then two, until he took her hand and kissed it, right over where Elijah had.

"It is a beautiful day to sail, husband," she told him.

"We sail for home," he acknowledged. "And we have a hold of Calais' heirs and heiresses eagerly awaiting their own return home."

"Then I shall retire to my quarters and see to your hostages, Klaus."

When Blair turned around, she heard her husband call her name and she paused. "I suggest you sleep as we sail, princess. As always you rose before the dawn. With some rest your mind shall find peace and calm, and you may have a more level head and you ponder whatever it was that had you so intimately conversing with my brother."

~o~o~

When Blair next emerged from her quarters, she looked up at the sky and the full moon. She felt the breeze turn into choppy wind, biting at her cheeks. The clear sky littered with stars grew smoky, and the ship turned violently under her feet. Blair found herself tossed across the ship and onto her knees. The chill enveloped her body and Blair raced back to her husband's quarters and pushed open the door.

There was that girl, that young woman, easily recognizable to her because of the golden hair that spilled over the lone pillow on Klaus' bed. The stench of vomit assailed her nostrils, and Blair almost stepped outside of the room when the pitch of the sudden storm made her grab the doorpost.

Blair stood frozen at the doorframe. She watched in silence as her husband drew closer to the bed, to the pale, trembling, profusely sweating girl with that shock of golden hair. Klaus brought with him rolled up linen and dried the balls of sweat that gathered on the girl's forehead.

"Will you toss me overboard then?" the girl asked pitifully. Blair could almost snap at the sheer vulnerability of the question. Klaus abhorred weakness, and the girl did herself no favors. "I am sick, and a ship with a sick passenger is a dangerous ship."

"You know this from living in Calais," her husband concluded, much to Blair's surprise. Klaus dipped the linen into a bowl of water and wrung it dry, then placed the cooling cloth on the girl's forehead. "I was led to believe that today marks the day of your birth, Caroline. Do you really think that low of me?"

"You are the Black Prince. Yes, I think it matters not it is the day of my birth. It can easily be the day I die as well."

Blair's lips parted when she glimpsed her husband's face, looking down at the girl, his eyes filled with compassion and the same wonder that it had when he first spied her outside the gates of Calais, clinging to her father as Klaus contemplated on his murder. "You are spending your birthday away from family, and I apologize. You are but collateral damage. I assure you, Caroline, that I mean you no harm."

Blair looked at the young woman—this Caroline—on her husband's bed, and recognized the signs. In horror she watched as Caroline turned to her side and vomited blood, and then Klaus helped her back up to lie on his bed without fear it seemed. Caroline lay back on the bed gasping for breath. On her neck Blair could see the red and black marks that were horrifying in her knowledge.

Blair backed away from the door, and her movement brought Klaus' attention to her.

Klaus stood from the bed and walked towards Blair. Blair could see the smattering of blood on his arms. "Your prisoner is carrying the pestilence," Blair whispered harshly, low enough not to spread alarm but furious. "She will spread the disease. This entire ship is a graveyard." Lower still, more furiously, she told him, "England will be a graveyard. We are taking the pestilence home, Klaus."

He grasped her arms firmly. Blair winced at the pain. "We shall burn the ship at sea," he assured her. "I swear to you I would not have placed in danger a single man or woman. But I found her ill when I visited the hold."

"And you take her to your bed?" Blair shook her head. "Never think I do not know who you are, Klaus, after ten years."

"And do not ever think I know not who you are."

Blair paused. The ship tossed to the side.

Klaus continued, "Ten years in my castle, in my keep, in my army camps. I know you keep herbs with you, so potent and miraculous you would not name or spare them." Blair threw him a look of confusion, which she hoped would be enough to throw him off. "Dorota, your maid," he told her. "I know of the magic, Blair, and if you help this entire ship, I shall not breathe a word to the church or to my father."

But to use the powdered white oak to cure Caroline and create a potion to prevent any other infection would consume all of her stock, and there was none to be had after that. She would never be able to open the portal on her own.

"This is not witchcraft, my lord," Blair declared.

"I shall not judge you," he said slowly. "After all, all these years you have seen what I do."

Blair pushed forward into Klaus' room. She could hear the labored breathing of the young woman on the bed. She took a cup and poured some wine, then a portion of her white oak powder. Blair took a gulp and offered Klaus another. And then she concocted another serving with more of the powder, then swilled the cup around to mix. She handed the cup to Klaus.

Blair watched with hooded eyes as her husband sat gently at the side of Caroline's bed with the cup in his hand. He said her name, gently, soothingly, and even raised her head which lolled to the side. "I am dying," the girl rasped softly. "And I am exhausted."

"And I could let you die," Klaus responded. "If that is what you want, I shall leave you to die in peace. If you really believe your existence has no meaning."

The young woman's eyes opened as she stared up at Klaus with tear-filled eyes. "I have no meaning other than a hefty ransom. Perhaps I should die and save my father the burden of pooling together my weight in gold."

"You have lived your entire life in a small city like Calais—a walled city. Certainly life does not seem worth the pain. But I will let you in on a little secret. There's a whole world out there waiting for you. Great cities, and art, and music. Genuine beauty. You could have all of it. All you have to do is ask."

Caroline drew a deep, pained breath. "I do not want to die."

Klaus drew her up, then held the cup to her lips. "There you go, sweetheart." Blair flinched at the endearment. "Have at it. Happy birthday, Caroline."

As Caroline drank the wine that Blair knew for certain would heal her, Blair met Klaus' eyes over the young woman's head. "This was no witchcraft, Klaus," she told him. The storm cracked lightning outside the window. "But that, outside, the torrent that has come from nowhere—that is witchcraft, Klaus. There is a witch aboard your ship."

Before her husband could respond, Blair stumbled out of his quarters and made her way to the galley. She fetched a large container of wine and poured her precious powder into it, then placed it at the center table, then called the crew to partake. She lugged another container with her and mixed it with the powder. Blair took the container to the hold.

They looked up at her upon her arrival. The hostages slept on cots in the hold. There were not enough rooms in the cog to house them. Blair placed the wine on the floor, then braced herself against the wall as the ship rocked.

"What has the prince done to Miss Forbes?" was the first question, coming from a golden-haired young man.

Blair answered honestly, "The prince is caring for your friend. She has grown very ill, and the prince has extended a watchful eye over her." She pushed the jug of wine towards them. "She was ill with a sickness that could be caught by anyone, and I have mixed this wine with a potion that can help."

"Drink it," came the quiet demand from a young woman.

"Miss Bennett," the young man called in alarm.

Blair reached for the jug and poured herself a cup, then swallowed the wine. "I am not here to hurt any of you. It would be rather stupid of me to hurt any of you while the prince wishes to ransom you."

One by one, the heirs and heiresses held captive in the hold reached for the cups and took wine for themselves, then shared with the other. The storm outside calmed. Blair stood as the ship steadied beneath her. She peered out the porthole and saw the dark clouds slowly recede and reveal the full silver moon.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief. She stepped back, then turned to the far end of the hold. There stood a large vanity dresser, laden on its legs and table and frame with pure ivory and mother of pearl. She caught her breath at the grand beauty of it, knew immediately there was no one else for whom such a wonderful gift was meant. She walked towards the dresser and touched the intricate detail. Her lips curved at the carved letters on the frame—B W M. Her fingers rested playfully on the magnificent handle of the drawer, then fluttered to the bracelet that adorned her wrist.

"That is a thing of beauty," came the deep thrum of voice behind her, one that made the hair at the back of her neck prickle, and her breath to catch in her throat. "I hope it is yours. Something so beautiful deserves to be with someone worthy of its beauty."

Her lashes lifted, and her gaze turned to her reflection in the mirror. She saw him standing there behind her. In the dark night he seemed but a shadow until he stepped forward and revealed his face. It was the young man who had so relentlessly studied her, now still watching her. He lifted the cup of wine to his lips and swallowed.

The dark prince in the mirror.

"Who are you?" she breathed.

"Charles—Chuck. Chuck Bass. And you?"

His words, his voice. He must be the magic on the ship, for he caused her heart to beat thrice as fast, her breath to leave her body, her mind all afluster. "Never you mind," Blair choked out, and she turned on her heel and fled the hold. He reached for her arm. His skin on hers was electric, too painfully, pleasurably hot. In her haste she pulled free.

Blair realized her bracelet had fallen off her wrist. She turned back to look, and saw merely those dark, dark eyes watching her, her brilliant diamonds hanging from his fingers.

tbc

AN: Hope you enjoyed. If you are reading, please do drop me a review. Cheers!


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